


Talk Me Down.

by jpegcalum



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Depressed Pietro, Gen, Suicide Attempt, attempted suicide, dad clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpegcalum/pseuds/jpegcalum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has to talk Pietro down from the edge. If not for his sake, then for Wanda's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Me Down.

It's too early for anyone but the runners to be up, anyone but the business men and women heading into the city to get back on their wheels and run in the rat race.   
Clint didn't buy into that. He prefered his own methods of work. His relaxation was in the morning light, in his ability to climb like a damned monkey. 

It started out as a morning workout: a run, a climb, a stretch. And he'd run a few miles to the barren bridge, the one with the gorgeous view of New York City, suspended over the rushing river.   
He'd climbed up the thick cables, and stretched himself over the support bars, looking down at the traffic and perching like a bird as he munched on the granola bar he'd brought with him. The sky was grey, the metal bridge slick with morning dew, not yet burned off by the sun that'd kept itself hidden behind the thick clouds. Apparently it was gonna rain today.   
The blond shrugged, glancing down as another car rushed across the bridge below him. An unorthodox place to relax, but Clint liked it. It was quiet,no people to shout at hon and sour his peace. And it was comfortable, soft…

Right up until he showed up. 

He was running so fast that Clint wasn't sure it was a person at all, and maybe just a blur of silver and blue. That was plausible, right? The man leaned down to watch the flash as it slowed, appearing now as a young man, chest heaving as he leaned against the guard rail just below Clint’s hiding place.   
The runner was staring intently at the angry river, his hands tight on the bar. 

What was he doing…? Clint wondered as he slowly crawled forward, his purple hoodie sticking to his back as he leaned down, watching him closely. He really, really hoped this kid wasn't thinking what Clint thought he was thinking…   
He swallowed hard, carefully, quietly and quickly making his way down the support cable, just as the runner swung one leg up and over the support bar, then the other, holding on still. He had no intention of letting himself fall just yet. 

Clint’s heart jumped in his chest as his feet hit the pavement, propelling himself the three feet over to grab the kid's wrists before he could let go. 

The kid jumped, staring up at Clint from the dangerous side of the rail, his feet barely set on the very, very edge of the bridge. 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?!” The man snapped at the boy, who just gazed at him, his blue eyes dull. Clint could see it. The fatigue. The fear. The sadness. This kid was in pain. Did he really think this was the only way out of it?   
The dyed white curls were falling into the boy's icy eyes, his lip quivering and stubble covered jaw set. Maybe he wasn't a kid, but Clint called everyone younger than him ‘kid’ anyway.

“Let go of me, old man. This is none of your business.” The younger shot back, surprising Clint. 

“Seeing as you're about to throw yourself off a bridge into freezing water, it kind of is my business. Come back over the rail, kid, we can talk it out, can't we?” The man tried, only getting a stinging glare. 

“Leave me alone! Just let me go!” The boy struggled, gritting his teeth, and those tears began trickling down his pale face. His blue athletic shirt clung to his body, showing off every sharp edge of muscle, every slope and curve of his body, and yet, hiding the pain that Clint knew he felt. 

“Hey, hey, hey, kid… relax, relax. I'm not gonna make you come back here unless you want to, alright?”

“I don't want to!” The boy snapped harshly. 

“I know you dont. I get it, okay? I get it. I just wanna talk. What's your name?” Clint tried again, only to have the runner look away from him. 

“Why the hell should I tell you?” The boy snapped, and Clint cocked a brow. 

“Because I'm curious. What's your name?” 

The kid huffed, shaking his head.   
“Pietro.” He mumbled, his thickly accented voice bringing out sounds that he didn't know the word had. 

“Pietro? What is that, Italian?” Very smooth, Clint. Well, at least he was keeping the kid talking. 

“Sokovian.” Pietro snapped, as if Clint was stupid. 

“Right, right. Well, I'm Clint. It's American. I think… I dunno. Got any family, Pietro?” 

The kid hesitated.   
“...Yes. A sister.” 

“Does she know where you are?”

“She knows I went out for a run.” Pietro said quietly, staring just past Clint, like he was deep in thought. 

“Would she be upset if you didn't come back home, kid?” 

“...she would be devastated. But… but it would be better. People would stop attacking us. I can't keep my fucking mouth shut, and they keep hurting her-” Pietro choked off in a sob that made Clint’s chest ache. Fuck, he wanted to help him.

“Hey, look at me. Breathe, right? It's alright, kid. Can you get away from them? The people hurting your sister?” He drew the attention back to himself, the blue eyed boy almost drowning in his tears. 

“T-the… I just… Wanda and I… we work for them. They won't let us leave. They think we're special.” Pietro swallowed hard. 

Clint knew almost immediately what was going on. The fucking gangsters, called themselves Hydra. They hired (read as: enslaved) kids who didn't know any better. And if Pietro had gotten tied up in it, Clint was getting involved. 

“Okay, Pietro, listen. Listen to me, right? I can help. I can get you and your sister out, alright? I know people. I can get you and Wanda a place to stay. I can take care of you guys, okay?” Clint removes a hand from Pietro’s wrist, placing it behind the younger man's head and forcing him to look at him. 

“Let me help you, please. This, jumping off a bridge, this isn't the way out.” 

 

Pietro only stared at him with wide eyes trying to comprehend what the older man had said. Did he mean that? Was he really going to get them out? He desperately hoped so. He was so afraid. He was so, so afraid. 

“I… I want to go home.” 

And in five words, Clint’s heart broke. This twenty something adult was really just a kid on the inside. It was crushing. 

“I know, Pietro. Come with me, alright? We'll go get Wanda and we'll go to my place, okay? You can be safe. You never have to go back to Hydra. I promise.” The man said so gently, his thumb stroking over the kid's skull. Pietro was trembling, his fingers loosening on the handrail slowly, but to Clint’s relief, he began to climb back over, gripping the man's hand tightly. 

Letting out a huge breath he didn't know he was holding, Clint pulled Pietro into a suffocating hug, the moment the kid's feet hit the concrete. To his surprise, the gesture was reciprocated, and Clint sighed softly. He didn't know what he was getting himself into, offering these kids a home. But he was prepared well enough.


End file.
